Monthly Archives: February 2019

. . . Nah. Penetrating. To the heart of the matter.

. . . Which is yet more on the “Shake, rattle” controversy — handshake as kiss of peace before communion.

Summarizing, offering selective observations by readers of ten-plus years ago.

* Bob O. suggests kiss and non-kiss (-shake) sections of church, the ushers asking your preference.

* Bob K. considers church ideal for meeting, greeting, and otherwise being nice to people.

* Margaret tells us that church is for God, not us: Ask not what God can do for you but what you can do for God.

* D. says timing is all off: you greet fellow or sister worshipers (discreetly) at the start of mass, not in the middle of it.

* Jennifer has no use for “power” as used by Bob K. — “our gathering of power from the spirit” — and sees psychobabble in this.

* Bob K. notes that mass has changed with the centuries, defending how we do it now as in the tradition.

* Margaret asks, “Can a New Mass that so obscures its own meaning be from God?”

Some good stuff here.

* Bob O’s consumer-preference model reminds me that the new mass was stuffed down our throats in the ’70s, to the extent that Latin mass-sayers were made to stop, because they were drawing too many away from what experts thought was good for us.

* Bob K’s meeting and greeting is a great idea — outside of mass. Attempts at prayer go with socializing? Don’t buy it.

* Margaret’s bringing us up short with her revolutionary idea that we are not the center of the known universe is refreshing. So is her (unpublished) reference to accounting for herself “on judgment day” for steering anyone away from mass.

Who now is concerned about judgment day? Is it a legitimate concern, or has it gone the way of the Latin mass? We don’t hear about, that’s evident. Maybe some expert can tell us.

* D. addresses the way kiss-handshaking is done, raising her small voice of reason as maybe a stopper or slowing-downer of ENTHUSIASM in the pews.

(Ronald Knox wrote a book about it, bringing scholarly restraint to our impulses and compulsions.)

* If Jennifer is going to spot psychobabble in public utterances by church people, however, she will have time for nothing else. My advice is to pick out the more egregious examples and pray hard for the perpetrators.

* Bob K’s changing-mass concept leaves us wondering why this change and not that. What we have is “prescribed,” Fr. Dietzen reminded us (incorrectly) in his New World column.

There’s something awry also in Bob K’s saying our “faith” has changed, citing cardinals’ fancy duds as something Jesus did not wear. “Faith”? Bob slipped, I’m sure; he does not want to say faith includes vestments.

Meanwhile, the kissing for peace continues as strong as ever, in its handshaking incarnation.

It happened to me on a weekday morning long ago, in a two-hands-on-shoulder from the parish deacon in vestments, who had left the altar and sought me out as I sat in a back row off to the side, sitting with ONE HAND OVER MY EYES TRYING TO BE AND LOOK PIOUSLY ABSORBED.

Talk about ENTHUSIASM. He climbed into the pew in front of me and scared the bejesus out of me with the clap-on-the-shoulder bit. I had not seen him coming!

Next time I will have to keep my eyes fixed on him so I can be ready.

Some years earlier, going up for communion at a Sunday “family mass” in the school hall of another parish, I failed to give my name as had been prescribed by the organizers, and the big guy holding the host refused me communion until I did.

Oh I tell you, there have been some fun times in church in these glorious years of the mass since the council. Of which more later.

. . . in March of ’06. . .

The divide is in terms of religion as therapy vs. as sacrifice, people-centered vs. God-centered, that separates Catholics.

From Reader Margaret, reacting to Bob K’s enthusiastic endorsement of the kiss of peace as widely practiced:

We’ve slipped from the meaning of Mass as sacrifice, not as gathering for celebration. The idea of “our gathering of power from the spirit” sums up the problem.

The New Mass is about what God can do for us – bless us, empower us, help us, raise us up on eagle’s wings, etc. . .

But the traditional Mass is a sacrifice, the reenactment of Calvary where the emphasis is on God and giving Him thanks and adoration.

Can a New Mass that so obscures its own meaning be from God?

Reader Jennifer finds Margaret’s comment that we have “slipped from the meaning of Mass as sacrifice,” etc. “so very true” but finds Bob K’s use of “power,” as in “our gathering of power from the spirit,” misguided.

“Next to ‘love,'” she says, “‘power’ is the most seductive and misapplied word of our time.”

As for Margaret’s asking rhetorically, “Can a New Mass that so obscures its own meaning be from God?” Jennifer agrees, adding pregnantly, “God does not do transactional analysis.”

Bob K., responding, does not think we have slipped in our grasp of the mass. Based on what he learned in high school in 1955, he considers the mass a distillation of centuries’ practice.

“There have been changes in many aspects of our faith over the centuries,” Bob says, citing “the elaborate garments that our cardinals wear today” as clothing “certainly Jesus never wore.”

In the mass “we commemorate and relive the sacrifice Jesus endured. . . . At different parts of the mass, we share different aspects of our mystery and our community together.”

At the start “we say hello to God.” Then “we read and listen and contemplate our readings.

“We transubstantiate [“we”?]; we share the body and blood, we greet and acknowledge one another, we . . . [receive] and share a blessing.

“At various points we put our words into song — joyous, sad, reflective depending on the season, the occasion, etc.

“At the end, we move with our beliefs out into the world to . . . try to be a force for good in the market place.

“The Mass has many aspects, including beauty and seriousness . . . enlargement of our spirit and acknowledgement of the goodness of the others who are with us in Christ.”

Bob captured the spirit of our dominant form of worship.

more more more . . .

Garnered some years back while blogging on the sign of peace question.

Begin with Bob K.:

Sometimes it is good for Christians to reach out . . . and communicate with each other. The MASS is as good a time as any and better than most to do so.

It is when we GATHER TOGETHER to worship and celebrate the Transubstantiation and our gathering of power from the spirit . . . .

If we can’t talk to each other (whom we see and know and who are standing right next to us), how can we talk to the Lord (Whom we . . . have not seen or cannot see) or to the world (whom we are to evangelize)?

At that time of [mass], I make it a point to talk to those near me — the wheel chair kid, the three African-Americans who always sit in the last pew, being shy [in] an all-white congregation, older women I know who are widows, and some teenagers who rarely come — in each case to make them feel welcome.

Then D:

The logical moment to greet each other is when entering one’s favorite pew and finding another “regular” there, or if I’m there and the regular comes in after me.

That’s when I greet folks, but I don’t shake their hand because it’s not a natural gesture in that spot — the person kneeling or sitting, or walking in to sit or pray.

To the regular lady in the pew in front of me, I kneel and whisper in her ear as she sits in the pew. I find out how she’s feeling because I know she has a heart problem. She tells me a few of her aches and complaints, including about her husband in the pew with her, who she says doesn’t show her any compassion.

I wave hi across a section of pews to friends as they come in. That’s normal “greeting” and wishing-well time.

Why can’t a bunch of bishops realize shaking hands in the middle of mass after being cheek to jowl with everyone for 25 minutes is not natural? What do you think a survey in church would disclose about hand-shaking?

Bob O.:

My physician daughter shrugs aside the germ question, saying, “Just remember to wash your hands as soon as you get home.”

But what about passing a neighbor’s germs on to another? Saying, “I’m sorry but I’ve got a bad cold,” and pointing to your throat will work once in a while, but every Sunday?

How about wearing a sign that says, “UNCLEAN” or “UNSOCIABLE”?

The problem’s not too bad in parishes that haven’t been brain-washed too long by a liberal pastor. But for parishes that have been, the only solution is: Avoid them. I’ve been in some that had enough empty pews to allow enthusiasts to kiss-hug-shake everybody in reach, then scramble church-wide for more fellow enthusiasts or victims. It usually took up to five minutes before the church settled down.

The worst are churches where everybody is expected to hold hands and daisy-chain across aisles, etc., during the WHOLE Our Father. As someone who had to attend one too many rallies during the sixties where we had to pretend we were all one downtrodden race, hold hands, sway in rhythm and sing “We shall overcome,” I have a strong aversion to this.

Looking straight ahead and holding on to the pew with a death grip doesn’t always work. I’ve had a bright young thing give me a sharp rap in the ribs to let me know this kind of thing isn’t tolerated.

Give me the celebrant who knows the whole greeting of peace is optional and skips it, Save me from the celebrant who, contrary to Vatican directions, leaves the altar and parades down the middle aisle, handshaking both ways. [Bob was right on both counts.]

I’m not hard line on this, though, Why don’t ushers just greet Mass-goers and ask, “Kissing or non-kissing?” and wave us to the appropriate pew?

At last, Nancy:

I enjoyed your writing about “shake time.” In many non-Catholic churches, “prayers and concerns of the people” is an integral part of a church service. Parishioner participation in the issuing of those concerns sometimes becomes quite senseless (and long-winded), especially when issues are brought up that are out of the realm of the purpose for prayer.

Thus spoke the people. A few of them anyhow.

Back in my younger days, I considered the importance of ignoring what’s up front during Mass.

Various ministers were thrust up front by current rules. It’s not their fault, I told myself.

Politeness does not require looking at them, however, I added.

So don’t look, I said. Instead, mind your own business, reading and meditating on the day’s Scripture.

There’s too much going on up front, such as traipsing to and fro with book held high over forehead as if to ward off falling plaster, I said, prior to reading Scripture of the day.

It’s not helpful. Merely distracting.

Then you look up and see priest looking at you.

He can’t help it. Reverentially downcast eyes have not been part of his training.

But you can help it by not looking.

The bulletin warned us away from my illegal Latin mass church.

It’s a “chapel,” the bulletin said, “that advertises itself as ‘Our Lady Immaculate Roman Catholic Church.'”

But it’s actually not Roman Catholic, we were told, but is run by the St. Pius X society founded by Archbishop Lefebvre, who was excommunicated, etc. etc.

The bulletin quotes the Pope about the “grave offense” involved in adherence to the Society leading to excommunication.

I’m at risk, therefore, by now and then attending the Latin masses at Our Lady Immaculate.

Would  my  parish consider now and then having a Latin mass, so as to ween me away? For pastoral reasons?

A recent special mass for gays and lesbians at a neighboring parish was a one-time thing.

Maybe have a one-time thing for Latin mass embracers, who make no claims about being born that way but only say they were raised that way?

. . . Father Emil discussed “what Mass is all about” in the bulletin. It’s our coming “with full hearts to thank God,” he wrote.

Moreover, the Mass is “truly alive . . . when we bring to [it] the everyday things of our lives.”

Some of his best mass-time experience, he confessed, was when he is “truly bringing what was in [his] heart to God.”

The “sacrifice of the mass,” he said “refers to our self-offering to God.”

This self-offering “feels good” because it reminds him that God is “taking care of” his problems.

He said nothing about Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross and its redeeming value or its being re-enacted in the mass, whatever we bring.

He spoke only about what we bring.

Apart from his belief in God as protector, it’s as if there were no Christian tradition.

Pagans did this much, and probably still do.

If you are wondering what there is about liturgy that reminds you of Rotary Club meetings, picnics, and other gatherings that make you feel good, consider this foray into theology by a coming pastors, who does a good job and is probably as theologically literate as most.

. . . “THE PEACE OF CHRIST BE WITH YOU”? YES! — a 2006 cogitation.

It happens at mass after the Our Father, during which you may have held hands in a show of solidarity or watched others do so. It’s SHAKE TIME.

I liken it to violating a library’s silence by interrupting someone, extorting his or her response.

My friend Jake (not his real name) intends to pull his phone out and threaten to call 9-1-1 the next time he is approached while trying in his admittedly clumsy way to commune with the Almighty. An empty threat, yes.

A Catholic New World reader put it to Question Corner priest, John Dietzen:

I’ve had my arthritic fingers crushed. I’ve had parishioners blow their nose and then offer their hand to me. . . . I’m tempted to isolate myself in back [of church]. . . . [T]his . . . scenario is unnecessary and superfluous.

Father John says this scenario is not new. They did it this way in the middle ages and in New Testament times. Late middle ages, the kiss of peace was for priests only, but it is now (for several decades) “prescribed.”

No it isn’t. And no it wasn’t in 2005, when Fr. John gave his advice. It was (merely) “appropriate,” with qualifications, the Vatican said.

Indeed, there were warnings:

It is appropriate “that each one give the sign of peace only to those who are nearest and in a sober manner.”

“The Priest may give the sign of peace to the ministers but always remains within the sanctuary, so as not to disturb the celebration.”

Ditto “if for a just reason he wishes to extend the sign of peace to some few of the faithful.”

As what kind of sign, that’s up to a country’s the sign to be exchanged, that’s up to the country’s bishops “in accordance with the dispositions and customs of the people,” with the Vatican’s approval.

A “sign of peace” is called for, says Fr. Dietzen. Not quite. Appropriate, remember. “Deep roots” here. Handshake, embrace, or kiss may not be “the perfect” sign of peace, “but it can still carry a message we need to understand if we are to celebrate the Eucharist together as Christ intended.”

We weren’t doing that before?

So: Arthritis got you down? Just look at the one next to you and, without extending your hand, say, “Peace be with you.”

Don’t worry, says Father John. “No one will be offended.” How does he know that?

So doing, handshake refused, “you will be sharing a moment of the Mass that can be most prayerful and precious.”

It can be, he’s right. But question was about when it isn’t.

For intance, when the arthritic senior citizen, to take one example, has corralled what he takes to be the peace of Christ already, including a resolve to be nicer to people, and has to abandon his beneficent reverie with smile and nod to those on either side of him and sometimes to lots of others, some of them climbing over pews to get to him?

That’s one to stump Question Corners throughout the land.

Pick and choose the best arguments for the mass facing in same direction as people.

This one popped out:

Mass offered with the priest facing the people, versus populum, presents another problem, one that Francis has spent his entire pontificate denouncing—clericalism. In the words of Cardinal Ratzinger, by turning the priest toward the people, “an unprecedented clericalization came on the scene. Now the priest—the “presider,” as they now prefer to call him—becomes the real point of reference for the whole liturgy. Everything depends on him… Less and less is God in the picture.”

Precisely. He’s the focus of attention, the performer, the man of the hour. Not good.

The mass is a show. Of what? Of God’s great mystery reenacted, his dealing with men, women, and children) as we know it through Scripture and Tradition. It’s been a long, hard slog through the ages, starting with Abraham. Neither peep show nor lecture but something symbolic and much more .

Consider it as drama. Gordon Graham, Professor of Philosophy and the Arts at Princeton Theological Seminary, did in 2007 in an essay that explored liturgy, especially the Catholic Mass and its high-church Protestant counterparts “as a kind of drama.”

The Mass, he said, is “a dramatic enactment of the gospel in which all present participate in a variety of roles.”

A sort of choreography is in play, that is. He elaborates.

There is first the “Gathering of the People,” including “latecomers who join in the opening hymn” unknowingly in the role of “physically representing the church as it comes together for the purpose of worship.”

This is “particularly striking” he writes, where services begin with a hymn sung in procession., which “draws increasing numbers . . . as it progresses and, by means of singing together, forges them into ‘the people.'”

More commonly, all are in the pews already, turning and watching the celebrant and his train go by. Either way singing together and being “forged” into an ad hoc unity is operative.

Then, what is familiar indeed:

When the people are gathered, the celebrant leads them in penitential prayers [Kyrie], a quest for the state of mind and heart they require to hear the gospel proclamation in the right way.

Thus prepared, worshipers enter the drama’s first main act, the Liturgy of the Word.

An ordinary member of “the people” emerges from the crowd, as the
Hebrew prophets did, to declare to the assembled company the word of God as it is found in the Old Testament.

In response, the people, like the people of Israel, together sing (or say) one of the ancient psalms (or occasionally canticles) characteristic of Israel’s worship.

Good.

Then a second prophet emerges . . .  this time . . . of the “new” Israel, and there is a reading from the Epistles . . . The gradual hymn that follows allows for a change of pace.

As it ends, the Gospel is carried in procession from the altar to the people, signifying that the words of Jesus come down from God and thus are not simply those of a human prophet, however visionary.

Good.

This important difference is marked by the fact everyone reverently stands and faces the Gospel, having sat at ease during earlier readings. It is then the task of the preacher . . . to expand on the readings of the day, . . . so that the people properly understand the import of what they have heard in this first act of the drama.

When the word has been heard and [presumably] understood once again, the faithful are in a position to declare their faith, communally, in the Creed.

And having heard the word of God, striven to understand it afresh, and reaffirmed their faith, they are led by one of their own to enter into what is widely known as “the Prayer for the Church,” a prayer that places their hopes and requests before God in the name of Jesus.

Also familiar.

Together the faithful enact the cosmic drama of the world’s salvation. They are not the authors of this drama. Authorship lies with God. Yet, following the parallel with less awesome dramas, it is through their wholehearted participation that ordinary people realize this drama in human life.

That’s the idea.

We might say this: By participating in the drama of the liturgy, they are
the denizens of the new Israel. Like an actor in a part, they are both themselves and Christian disciples, and it is only by giving themselves wholeheartedly to the parts they are assigned that they make that discipleship a reality.

Beautiful. It’s the ideal.

How well it all done is an issue, of course. The author is philosophizing, of which I approve, except it reminds me of the old story of the two ladies, matrimonial veterans, walking out after mass where the young priest had preached about the joys of married life.

One noted what a lovely sermon it was. The other agreed, adding, “I wish I knew as little about marriage as that young man.”

Do we wish sometimes that we knew as little about mass as that philosopher?